


Time in a Bottle

by BunnyHasA03



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fundy really doesnt like Ghostbur, Ghostbur, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, No Romance, Song: Love Like You, Song: Time in a Bottle, Yeah i made this fic have TWO songs, author is projecting onto someone can you guess who, idk - Freeform, l'manburg, or L'manberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28930443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyHasA03/pseuds/BunnyHasA03
Summary: "Sally loved nights like this."Fundy tried to remember her, tried to find any reason to scoff, to disagree.All he found were disjointed memories of Wilbur, things Wilbur had told him, everywhere his thoughts turned were Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur. God it made his chest ache, his head spun so hard it hurt."She does?"It hurt even more to ask.-------------------------Fundy and Ghostbur talk by the lake in L'manburg.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Time in a Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> Uh hello yes I have DreamSMP brainrot and family issues so here you go!
> 
> I do not write much fan fic, but here you go, my angst child
> 
> Song Recs since yea (They just match the vibes™)
> 
> 1- Sad Happy by Circa Waves
> 
> 2- Yellow is the Color of her Eyes by Soccer Mommy
> 
> 3- Bad Girls by Tennis
> 
> Disclaimer-  
> This fic is strictly about their characters in the DreamSMP! This in now way reflects the real people behind the characters! Enjoy the story!

Somehow, Fundy always found himself walking back here. Sitting with a ghost of the past at the lake his father made. The shore his father made. In the mess his father made. Listening to the guitar his memory played every night. 

Fundy looked at the specter next to him. Ghostbur was staring at the moon, eyes drowning with an unreadable flood of emotion, a soft smile across his face as he began to sing.

_If I could store time in a bottle,_

The night chill wafted off the water, settling into the empty spaces between his thoughts.

_The first thing that I'd like to do,_

Fundy distantly wondered if anyone else was awake, if anyone else heard these songs. 

_Is to save everyday till eternity passes away,_

If anyone else had heard the buried memories, the words that he forced to stumble over the strain in his voice.

_Just to spend them with you…_

Fundy laid back against the shore, gazing into the sky above him, remembering the hours Wilbur and Phil had practiced this song, and wishing things had been different.

_If I could make days last forever,_

He wanted to scream. To cry. To run and leave. 

To do something, anything.

_If words could make wishes come true,_

But something in his heart told him to stay. Told him to come back every night. To wait.

_I'd save every day like a treasure and then  
Again, I would spend them with you._

Fundy sat back up, pulling his knees to his chest, and before he could catch himself, he had started singing along.

_But there never seems to be enough time  
To do the things you want to do, once you find them._

Fundy knew that he was hurting himself, but the voice of his father brought back soft memories and softer feelings, melting his heart and bringing him back here every night.

_I've looked around enough to know  
That you're the one I want to go through time with…_

He knew how the night would end. Ghostbur would finish his song and go to bed, Fundy would sit and watch the waves for a while longer, and then go to bed himself. 

Being here hurt more than seeing Ghostbur, more than being forgotten by Eret, more than losing the election, more than anything that had happened to him so far. But he still woke up, and let himself be lulled into the warmth of Ghostbur's music.

Fundy let himself get lost in his thoughts, and when he'd climbed outside of them, he found Ghostbur had kept singing without him.

_The box would be empty, except for the memory of how  
They were answered by you_

Fundy couldn’t stop himself from asking the question that’s been on his tongue for weeks.

"Did you love her?"

The music suddenly stopped, and for the first time in a long time, Fundy saw the man next to him.

Ghostbur let out a shrill and awkward laugh. 

"I mean, of course I, I loved her more than I'd ever loved before."

Ghostbur broke his gaze to look back at the moon. Fundy's ears twitched.

"Do you still love her?"

Ghostbur absentmindedly picked at the strings of his guitar.

"Yes." 

Fundy remembered why he always brought himself here. He wanted answers. Even if they cost heavy silence and an empty feeling. 

"Sally loved nights like this."

Fundy tried to remember her, tried to find any reason to scoff, to disagree. 

All he found were disjointed memories of Wilbur, things Wilbur had told him, everywhere his thoughts turned were Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur. God it made his chest ache, his head spun so hard it _hurt_.

"She does?"

It hurt even more to ask.

"Yes, she, she loves the moon, and she really likes music."

Fundy sunk in on himself. These weren't the answers he wanted. He wanted to trip Ghostbur up, wanted to laugh at the things he forgot. 

"Do you remember where she is?"

The question was muffled and tense, a purposeful minefield of unknowns and mistakes. 

Still, Ghostbur let out a shaky sigh, and laid his guitar in the sand next to him.

"I hope so. I really do." 

There it was. The moment Fundy was supposed to laugh, the point he was supposed to make fun of, the whole reason he was here.

But he didn't. 

He sat in the sand, knees to his chest and eyes on the water. 

Ghostbur shuffled next to him, coughing awkwardly, playing a few stray chords, anything to break up the silence, to have Fundy say something funny, so he wouldn't have to sit and think. 

But Fundy just sat there, trying to wrestle with his thoughts.

“Fundy I, I, I’m really…”

Ghostbur clamped his mouth shut, reasoning through his next words carefully.

"I know that…" 

He stopped again. Why was it so hard for him to say something?

"I'm not…"

Ghostbur let out a frustrated huff, suddenly flopping onto his back. 

"There's nothing I can say. is there?"

His voice came out muffled, Fundy's shoulders tensing at the familiar strain in his voice. Fundy couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t look anywhere except the water. His hands shook, his whole body shivered as the cool air overtook his senses.

He was supposed to hold the cards, he was supposed to have the answers. And for the love of god, he was at least supposed to know her. 

Yet here he was, being upstaged by a fucking ghost. 

One with memory problems.

“I never asked you to say anything. I never asked you to do anything.” 

Fundy's voice was firm, but even he could hear the tears hanging off the edges as he spoke. He really hadn’t asked for anything. Yet here Ghostbur was, trying to do everything he couldn’t do before. 

Fundy was angry, sad, frustrated, everything in between and more. He couldn’t place anything. All he could do is cry into his knees and hold onto his jacket for dear life. He faintly heard shuffling next to him, a few coughs, the same routine from earlier. 

“God Ghostbur just say something for christs sa-”

Fundy had pulled himself out of his ball, turning towards Ghostbur, and finding that he had moved next to him, arms out and eyes soft like he was going to give him a hug. 

“I- I- I’m sorry, I’ll just-”

Fundy caved.

He wrapped his arms around Ghostbur’s chest and sank into the familiar yellow sweater and comfort of his voice, the smell of dusty pages and dried ink, the strumming of a guitar and the smell of gunpowder, fire, and everything that he could muster from his memories.

His memories of Wilbur.

Ghostbur let him, patting his head and singing an old song he didn’t recognize. 

_If I could begin to do_  
_Something that does right by you_  


Fundy’s chest turned to concrete. He could barely make out and process the words, but the small part of his brain that did pushed him further, dug its heels in the ground as he tried to stop crying. 

He was sure Ghostbur would push him away, tell him to leave, make a joke about his sweater, but he never did. He just sat there, singing with his arms wrapped around his son. 

_I would do about anything_

Ghostbur’s arms tightened around Fundy.

_I would even learn how to love_

The same part of Fundy’s brain that recognized the song heard the tears in Ghostbur’s voice through the last line. Before Fundy could say anything, though not doing much better himself, Ghostbur curled around him. 

“I will never be able to tell you how sorry I am.”

Fundy let out his own awkward and shrill laugh.

“I know.”

They sat there, crying while the waves crashed against the shore. 

Fundy would be the first to admit that being held by his father made him happy, no matter if he was a half cobbled together recollection, or if he was flesh and blood. 

Eventually exhaustion hung it’s blanket over their late night conversation.

They both dried their tears, and said their goodbyes. 

Fundy knew nothing would really change, the possibility of Ghostbur not remembering the exchange looming over him. But that one moment, that one breath of fresh air where he let Ghostbur _see_ him, was something indescribable.

He let exhaustion take him as he stared into the stars, knowing deep down tonight was just going to be a dream to Ghostbur.

He’d make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly F to Ghostbur for having this moment of raw emotion and then jsut,,,, probably forgetting it because its sad and he forgets sad things.
> 
> Pain.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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